Organization in the Work of God’s People
Waiting amid the shadows
For the blushing of the dawn,
Waiting amid the darkness
For the sunlight of the morn:
Waiting, because the appointed age
Has not told out its years—
Waiting, because a groaning earth
Has not wept all its tears.
Toil-worn and very weary—
For the waiting time is long;
Leaning upon the promise—
For the Promiser is strong;
Waiting, because some straying sheep
Are on the mountains still,
They must be sought, and found, and saved;
It is the Father’s will.
Waiting, ’mid cruel taunting
From many a scorning foe—
Chilled by the bitter night winds,
The lamp of faith burns low;
Waiting, because a patient God
Is pitiful and kind—
The seeking Shepherd may not leave
One halting lamb behind.
Waiting, ’mid angry billows,
For the breaking of the light—
Heart-sick, and sad, and fretful,
With toiling all the night!
Waiting, because the Master stands
To watch the rising tide,
And He would have us cast the net
Upon the other side.
Waiting, while skies still blacken
With storm-clouds hanging low,
Eyes fail with looking upward
To find the emerald bow.
Waiting, because the Master’s eye
Is on the ripening grain,
Th’impatient sickle must be stayed,
Waiting the “latter rain.”
Waiting with hands still busy,
Chiding the tears that fall,
Stopping sometimes to listen,
If haply He should call.
Waiting because the mighty stream
Flows on with ceaselss tide;
There’s room within the palace halls—
The open door stands wide.
Beguiling waiting hours,
With rapturous thoughts of home.
Breathing a yearning whisper,
“When will the Master come?”
Hark! Get thee to the mountains,
There is sound of distant song,
The Bridegroom King is coming,
For His bride has waited long!